


Sormik Week Oneshots

by freezeveganpolice



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:12:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7719631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezeveganpolice/pseuds/freezeveganpolice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sormik Week Oneshots/Drabbles!<br/>1. Water: Sorey asks Mikleo for a little guidance with water armatization.<br/>2. Earth: After a hellion leaves Sorey with a nasty slash, Mikleo comes to his aid, only to find that the Shepherd is as stubborn to treat as any mule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Water

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I don't have a creative title for this collection of ficlets D:

Mikleo is sprawled across the grass outside when Sorey finds him. Although his first instinct is to flop down beside him and watch the small fluffy seeds float lazily by in the sunshine, Sorey forces himself to stay standing and lean over him instead, hands on his hips.

If he didn’t know better, Sorey would swear Mikleo had been sleeping. The smaller boy slowly opens one eye and then closes it again. “You’re blocking the sun,” he says, and Sorey grins.

“I have a question,” he says, his usual sparkling optimism momentarily undercut by a lack of confidence.

Mikleo opens both eyes now and sits up a little. “Sorey?” Sorey caves in and drops down next to him, legs crossed and hands pressed firmly to his ankles.

“When we armatize…” Sorey starts, and then shakes his head. “Do you ever notice that our healing, you and me, isn’t as powerful as it is when it’s me with Dezel, or me with Edna?”

Mikleo frowns a little, cocking his head slightly to the side as Sorey turns his gaze to the ground. “I guess,” says Mikleo, “though I’m not usually paying too much attention to it. Or, we’re not. At least I didn’t think so.” It’s hard for them to differentiate between themselves, when they’re fused. Mikleo wonders sometimes whether this is true for the other seraphim – if they, too, feel so closely bonded with Sorey that the two become one not just in body but in mind as well – but he is and, he thinks, probably forever shall be too embarrassed to ask.

“Why do you think that is?” Sorey asks, lifting his eyes back toward Mikleo’s again, and Mikleo finds himself a little taken aback by the intensity of the sudden eye contact.

“I think it’s just the nature of our powers, Sorey,” he says slowly. “We’ve all got different strengths. We have really powerful physical attacks, don’t we?”

“I guess,” Sorey admits. “But you and I have been using bows to hunt for as long as we can remember. Doing that while we’re… one… doesn’t feel that different. It’s easy.” He pauses, and then lies back against the grass. Mikleo peers over at him, one eyebrow quirked upwards. “Healing with you… isn’t.”

Mikleo regards him carefully, then asks, “Why do _you_ think that is?”

Sorey’s eyes follow a cloud as it drifts slowly across the brilliant blue sky. “The water,” he says, after a long time in which the cloud passes far to the boys’ left.

“What about the water?” Mikleo asks, unable to keep from sounding at least mildly offended.

“It doesn’t come as easily to me for some reason,” Sorey admits as he rolls onto his side to look at Mikleo, his head propped up on his gloved hand. “I was wondering if you could teach me.”

Mikleo’s eyes grow wide. “What, you want to fuse when we’re outside of battle?”

Sorey holds up an apologetic hand and shakes his head. “No, no, I mean… when it’s us. I mean, you and me, separate, not…” He rubs the back of his head and laughs. “You know what I mean.”

Mikleo blinks once, then nods. “Yeah, Sorey,” he says, “I know.” As graceful as the water itself, he draws himself up to stand, practically floating to his feet, and then offers Sorey a hand. The Shepherd takes it and meets him upright, markedly less gracefully. And then, with only the smallest of smirks, Mikleo turns on his heel and starts to walk away.

Sorey sputters his way through about half of “Bu – where are you going?” before Mikleo holds a beckoning hand up and shouts, without looking back, “Do you want to learn or not?” Sorey stumbles after him, running a little to catch up. For such a small person, Mikleo can certainly move quickly.

“Where _are_ you going?” Sorey queries again as he jogs up to come even with his best friend.

“Where do you think I’m going? You want to learn about water, we’re going to go get in the water,” Mikleo says simply. When Sorey stares at him despondently, he smirks once more. “You’re not afraid of getting a little wet, are you?”

“No,” says Sorey.

“Good.”

They walk in silence for a few more minutes, trading the sloping grassy fields for the soft loam of the forest. As the foliage grows thicker overhead, the ground gets softer beneath them, until finally Mikleo leads Sorey through a thicket of bushes into a small clearing with a cool, clear pond at its center. A small stone shrine to the seraphim sits at the opposite edge of the pond, slightly overgrown with moss and surrounded by small white flowers.

Mikleo wastes no time in getting in the water, stepping directly in and walking forward until the water comes to his waist. He turns, the tails of his coat drifting out behind him like the fins of some elegant fish. Sorey watches him for a moment, marveling at the way the dappled light filters through the leaves overhead and catches on the violet of Mikleo’s eyes before it hits the sparkling water. But then Sorey catches himself, and kicks off his boots, pulls off his socks, and neatly folds his Shepherd’s cloak, leaving all of them behind on the bank of the pond. He wades in, coming up next to Mikleo, who wrinkles his nose ever so slightly as the two come level and the extra couple of inches that Sorey has on him become more apparent than normal.

“Now what?” Sorey asks, shivering a little as the water seeps through his clothing.

Mikleo frowns a little, and looks momentarily hyper-focused, then looks up into Sorey’s eyes. “Close your eyes,” he says, and Sorey does so immediately. “And… turn around.”

Slowly, Sorey turns so his back is to Mikleo. “Mikleo, if you dunk me, I swear I’m going to –“

Mikleo snorts. “I’m not going to dunk you,” he says, and Sorey feels the water move around him as Mikleo steps closer. “Put your arms out in front of you,” Mikleo says softly, and Sorey reaches directly out in front of himself as if he’s one of the undead. “Not so far,” Mikleo says, then mumbles, “I can’t reach that far.”

For a moment, Sorey is tempted to tease him for it, but he knows that Mikleo is doing him a favor, so he lets the moment pass and instead relaxes his arms so they rest lightly in front of him, almost as if he’s playing an invisible piano. Mikleo gently brings his own arms up underneath Sorey’s, positioning his hands on the underside of Sorey’s wrists. “What are you doing?” Sorey asks quietly.

“Shut up,” Mikleo says, “and just try to feel what I’m feeling.” He starts to move his arms, taking Sorey with him as he begins a painstakingly slow dance through the water, arcing their hands through the air and around each other. He steps back, and feels Sorey step back with him, at first with some hesitation, and then, with the next step, a quick ease. “I normally cast with my staff,” Mikleo admits, “but when I was younger, I didn’t have that. It was just me.”

As he extends their right arm further forward, he has to step closer to Sorey so that he can keep his light hold on Sorey’s wrist. With Mikleo’s cheek pressed up against Sorey’s shoulder and Mikleo’s chest flush to Sorey’s back, the two turn, stepping easily around one another as Mikleo guides Sorey through his intricate movements. “Now, open,” he whispers, and Sorey dares to open his eyes as Mikleo keeps leading him through the movements.

What he sees is almost too beautiful for him to comprehend; for every curve of their hands together, a coil of water rises and dances before them; for every slight pivot of the two around each other, the water around them curves out in a spiral too exaggerated to be a natural disturbance of the water.

“Are you doing this?” Sorey breathes.

“Of course it’s me doing it,” Mikleo mutters, shaking his head ever so slightly into Sorey’s shoulder, “who else would it be?”

“I didn’t know you could do this,” Sorey sighs.

“Well, it’s not like there’s much occasion for it,” Mikleo says sheepishly. “Do you remember what I asked you to do?” he asks then, as he sweeps one hand across their chests and sends a slow current of water meandering through the air past them.

“To feel what you’re feeling,” Sorey echoes, and this time he leads the way, bringing their other hand up and over. The water follows his movement, arching over and around them like a soft, fluid serpent. He turns, feeling Mikleo turn with him, and sends the water up in a spiral around and then above them. “ _Luzrov Rulay,_ ” Sorey murmurs, and the two are joined in a burst of blue and white light.

They don’t hesitate at all as they twirl their bow around them, bringing the water up to swirl around them and create an orb of crystal blue that surrounds them and lifts them up to float above the surface of the water. “ _Elixir Vitae,_ ” they say, and the sudden feeling of healing purity that they exude is like nothing either of them has ever felt.

They split and land, gasping, back in the pond, sending up a towering splash of water. Sorey catches Mikleo’s eye, breathless, and then can’t help but laugh. “I’ve never felt _anything_ like that before,” he says, grinning more broadly than Mikleo’s ever seen. “If that’s what armatization is supposed to be like…”

“It’s not like that usually?” Mikleo asks, unable to contain his curiosity.

“Never!” His eyes are shining brightly, and without thinking he grabs both of Mikleo’s hands and pulls him toward him. “Can we try it again?”

Mikleo smiles, his pale cheeks coloring at the sudden contact. “You and I both know we don’t have enough energy for that right now.”

“Can we do this again tomorrow?” Sorey insists.

“You don’t want to try something similar with the other seraphs? I’m sure Lailah would –“

“No,” Sorey says, his voice firm but his eyes still glittering with excitement. “Just you.”

Mikleo bites down the idiot grin that wants to cover his face, and simply nods. “Tomorrow.”


	2. Day 2: Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was Earth/Stubbornness/Growth so here are some equally stubborn baby nerds. Hurt/comfort but mostly fluff.

“This would be a whole lot easier if you didn’t move so much.”

Sorey squirms under Mikleo’s touch, trying to keep his mouth from belying his amusement. “I might move less if you weren’t tickling me on purpose,” he says wryly, but Mikleo fixes him with a stern, exasperated stare.

“Trust me, Sorey,” he sighs, as he continues to shape cool water around the deep gash on Sorey’s shoulder, “you would _know_ if I were tickling you on purpose.”

“I do know!” Sorey insists, again resisting Mikleo’s ministrations. This time he goes so far as to scoot his chair across the room in the inn. Mikleo rolls his eyes and banishes the water floating in front of him with a soft ‘pop.’

“If you don’t want me to heal you, I won’t,” he says. “Just don’t come begging me for ice cream later.”

Sorey’s eyes light up. “Can I beg for it now?”

“No, you can’t, because there’s still a lot of dirt in that cut,” Mikleo shakes his head, and moves back toward Sorey again. “That’s probably what’s tickling you, is all that loose dirt floating out of your wound.”

“ _You’re_ what’s tickling me,” Sorey grumbles, but wilts under Mikleo’s concerned gaze and offers his shoulder once more. The water seraph drops to his knees next to Sorey’s chair and starts to draw the filth out of Sorey’s wound once again.

Mikleo’s mouth tightens as the dirt dissipates and he can see the damage more clearly. The gash runs deep across Sorey’s shoulder, stretching from the tip of his clavicle nearly to the center of his shoulder blade. “That minotaur really gored you,” he says, voice unwavering as he gently laps the water over the bleeding cut. “I don’t know if this is going to close up on its own.”

“It will,” Sorey says firmly.

Mikleo, unsure, looks up at him. “Maybe I should get Lailah. She could burn it shut –“

“She’s busy,” Sorey says. “She went out to talk with Edna, remember?”

“Rose could stitch this up, then,” Mikleo tries, but again Sorey shuts him down.

“Scattered Bones business,” he reminds him, then grins. “What, don’t want to have to take care of me on your own?”

Mikleo scoffs and rolls his eyes, appalled that Sorey would even think such a thing. He’d been taking care of Sorey – well, they’d been taking care of each other, if he was being really honest with himself – since they were children. This isn’t the first time he’s patched Sorey up after a scrape, although this particular injury is definitely more severe than any of the ones they’d suffered as kids. And he’s certain this won’t be the last, either.

He doesn’t mind it, particularly, although the depth of this wound does worry him. But, he thinks, it’s nice for him to get to be so close to Sorey. Being inside of his head is one thing; being here, beside him, in physical contact with him, is something else entirely. As he draws his fingers lightly over Sorey’s wounded shoulder, filtering cool, clear water around the wound, he hears Sorey make a small noise, and Mikleo freezes. “Did I hurt you?”

Sorey shakes his head. “Do that again,” he says in a small voice.

Tentatively, Mikleo retraces the line he’d just made, his fingertips barely drifting over the surface of Sorey’s bare skin. Again, the strange noise escapes Sorey, leaving him with a smile on his barely-parted lips, and again Mikleo pauses. “Does it… tickle?” he tries, and Sorey’s cheeks deepen to a shade of red that rivals Lailah’s dress.

“No,” he says immediately, “it’s not… that…” He looks bashfully up at Mikleo and then down at the floor. “It feels good, okay? Whatever you’re doing. It feels really good.”

Mikleo looks from Sorey’s face to the slash on his shoulder and back again, then shrugs. He inspects the wound once again, then says, “Well, whatever it is, it’s working. You’re not bleeding anymore. Honestly, I’m surprised you made it back here – you must have lost a lot of blood, Sorey.”

“I was amped up from the fight! It didn’t even hurt!” Sorey argues, but winces as Mikleo withdraws the cool water from around the wound. It looks shallower without the water around it to magnify it, which relieves him somewhat, but it’s still an ugly slash that’s bound to scar. He pulls a bandage from Rose’s bag and wraps it, as tightly as he dares without applying so much pressure he’ll reopen the wound, around Sorey’s shoulder and chest.

“And now?” Mikleo asks, but he can already tell that Sorey is beat. He’s been able to tell since they made it back to this inn, but now it’s apparent on Sorey’s face just how drained he is. Mikleo slides his way easily under Sorey’s arm and stands, pulling Sorey up with him.

“’m fine,” Sorey mumbles. “You don’t need to carry me.”

Mikleo ignores this comment, supporting the majority of Sorey’s weight as he heads over to the bed and slowly turns around so he can lay Sorey back against it. “I’m honestly not sure how you’re still conscious,” Mikleo sighs as he pulls Sorey into shape on the bed, making sure that he’s lying on his side with no pressure on his injured shoulder. “Lailah told me how fragile humans are. I mean, I always knew, Gramps told us, but… you know he didn’t go into much detail about it. I think he didn’t want to scare us.”

“Mikleo…” Sorey says, his voice barely audible as he drifts in and out of consciousness. “Are you scared?”

 _Of losing you?_ Mikleo thinks. _More than anything._

What he says, in a voice he barely recognizes as his own, is simply, “Yes.”

“I’m not,” Sorey whispers. “I’ve got you here. I know I’m gonna be okay as long as you’re here.” Mikleo pulls the covers up to Sorey’s chest, leaving his bandaged shoulder out in the air. “You’ll stay, right?”

“I always stay,” Mikleo says with a shake of his head.

“Right now, I mean,” Sorey says. “Stay with me?”

Mikleo nods. “Yeah,” he says, “okay.” Gingerly, he lifts himself over Sorey and lays down behind him, his lithe body inches from Sorey’s own and their hair overlapping on the pillow. Sorey shifts a little in front of him, readjusting himself so that the two are closer together. Mikleo is sure he’ll be hearing about this from Edna for weeks, but, as one of Sorey’s feathered earrings brushes against his nose and he feels Sorey’s breathing change as he finally succumbs to much-needed sleep, he decides that he doesn’t care.

Lazily, Mikleo traces a figure-8 with a droplet of water along Sorey’s exposed arm. He feels Sorey’s body relax under his touch as he falls deeper into sleep. And then, lulled by the rhythm of Sorey’s rising and falling chest, Mikleo closes his eyes, lets his arm rest along the curve of Sorey’s ribcage, and joins Sorey in sweet, sweet dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikleo for big spoon 2k16


End file.
